The same trail looks different depending on the time of year. Today was grey November, a bit of snow and rain, clouds moving quickly with the wind showing darkness while turning over. It felt colder than just around freezing. Days like this always do. It is a tuneup for when it really gets cold. The light sets the undergrowth and rocks along the creek with a definition that seems lacking in weather most call good, or at least better than a grey November day. The leaves are shed and the tamarack needles have lost their vibrancy. The moss hanging on the trees seem bright now the forests new growth green has turned back dormant. The birds nests are exposed, but they are abandoned for the year, the young long flown. They can still be heard below the easy wind moving the tallest spruce. We marvel at the tall snags taking longer than our lives to die, having woodpeckers drum on them and insects invade below the bark, until the branches loose needles, the lower ones first and then rising into the majestic canopy, finally leaving only naked roots flailing at the sky. It’s easy to see on this November trail before the air dries, the snow flies and the cold gets serious.